"If in melancholy's hour, we mourn for one who hath been dear, and sorrow for the perishable nature of all that may here claim our earthly affections; is it not sweet to think that in another world--perhaps in some bright star--we may again commune with what we have _so_ loved--once more be united in those kindly bonds--and in a kingdom where those bonds may not thus lightly be severed?" Julia's voice failed her; for she thought of one who had preceded her to "the last sad bourne." Delmé was much affected. He turned towards her, and his hand touched hers. "Angelic being!" As he spoke, darker, more worldly thoughts arose. A fearful struggle, which convulsed his features, ensued. The world triumphed. Julia Vernon saw much of this, and maiden delicacy told her it was not meet they should be alone. "Let us join the crowd!" said she. "We shall probably meet our party in the long walk: if not, we will try the ball room." Poor Julia! little was her heart in unison with that joyous scene! By the eve of the morrow, Delmé was many leagues from her and his family. Restless man, with travel, ambition, and excitement, can woo and almost win oblivion;--but poor, weak, confiding woman--what is left to her? In secret to mourn, and in secret still to love. Chapter III. The Journey. "Adieu! adieu! My native land Fades o'er the ocean blue; The night winds sigh--the breakers roar-- And shrieks the wild sea mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea, We follow in his flight: Farewell awhile to him and thee! My native land! good night!" We have rapidly sketched the dénouement of the preceding chapter; but it must not be forgotten, that Delmé had been residing some months at Leamington, and that Emily and Julia were friends. In his own familiar circle--a severe but true test--Sir Henry had every opportunity of becoming acquainted with Miss Vernon's sweetness of disposition, and of appreciating the many excellencies of her character. For the rest, their intercourse had been of that nature, that it need excite no surprise, that a walk on a gala night, had the power of extracting an avowal, which, crude, undigested, and hastily withdrawn as it was, was certainly more the effusion of the heart--more consonant with Sir Henry's original nature--than the sage reasonings on his part, which preceded and followed that event.